


Forsaken

by Baby_Spinach



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, One Shot, POV Original Character, POV Outsider, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_Spinach/pseuds/Baby_Spinach
Summary: A nurse befriends the tall, dark man at an elderly Chloe Decker's bedside.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 38
Kudos: 384





	Forsaken

Her hand could be a vital lifeline if not for the gentle way he holds it. But the seeming contradiction of wild desperation and feather-light gentleness is far from unusual here; hollow-eyed relatives and loved ones in various states of denial, shock, or despair file through in droves every day, and Beth has long grown accustomed to them.

Yet there’s something different about him. Her first encounter with the man had been unsettling enough; Beth had found herself brushing away stray hair like a self-conscious schoolgirl, struck dumb at the tall, dark, intoxicating sight of him. It’d been more than just his looks, it’d been an aura. A practically irresistible one.

That heady presence had only briefly muddled her senses before the sight of his vivid and crushing distress had broken the spell; only the heartless could possibly see such a stricken, vulnerable man as an object of desire. His eyes were dark and bottomless, hollow with the despair of countless centuries.

Lucifer Morningstar, he calls himself. He’s been glued to his chair at Chloe Decker’s bedside for two weeks now. His hand perpetually encloses one of hers, rubbing eternal little circles with his thumb.

His exchanges with the nurses are polite but curt, his exchanges with the doctors tight and drawn. Beth knows that he is at a knife’s edge, has been since the beginning. The scales would only need to tip a little, one way or the other, and he would shatter like sugar glass. She’s seen it many times before.

On a day like any other, as Beth adjusts Mrs. Decker’s pillows and checks her read-outs, she’s suddenly compelled to say something to the living statue at the latter’s bedside.

“Your grandma’s stable, you know. It couldn’t hurt to get some fresh air, stretch your legs.”

Lucifer looks up, his glassy, unblinking eyes seemingly a thousand miles away before they gradually focus on Beth. Though he’s never left his seat as far as anyone knows, he’s somehow maintained his immaculate appearance.

“Chloe is not my grandmother,” is all he says. Then he turns back to resume his silent, singular contemplation.

Beth should leave the man be, but her mouth runs away from her again. “The cafeteria has this really good rice pudding. A thousand times better than pretty much anything else they have. Come on, I’m about to go on break.”

She fully expects him to refuse, and he certainly looks like he’s about to. But after weeks of suffering the cruel two-punch of both monotony and apprehension, perhaps even he agrees that he’s been rubbed just a little too raw.

Lucifer nods a little and rises up to his impressively towering height, buttoning his light gray suit jacket as he goes. “Very well, Nurse Carter. Please, lead the way.”

*

“Well? Was I lying about the pudding?”

“You were telling the truth. A most admirable quality.” The corner of Lucifer’s mouth twitches a little, perhaps the closest he can currently get to a smile. He digs in his plastic spoon and takes another bite.

“I’m just glad you haven’t merged with the chair yet,” Beth says. “You might hold the hospital record by now.”

A few of the other nurses on break--Angela, Claire, Maria--steal frequent glances at them and exchange whispers. Beth feels a little heat rise in her cheeks. She’s never enjoyed being a focus of attention on the rare occasions it’s occurred, but she doesn’t imagine that anyone in the vicinity of Lucifer Morningstar could realistically hope to avoid it. He, after all, was apparently born to attract attention, and pays no mind to what is clearly an everyday occurrence for him.

“Nurse Carter,” Lucifer finally says, “What was it that prompted you to unstick me from my chair?”

His dark gaze meets hers, and Beth realizes that she can’t look away. Everything else fades into inconsequentiality, including her own mild embarrassment. She must tell him. She can’t imagine doing anything else. The words flow out of her, a little labored and slow but completely true.

“I wanted… I wanted to cheer you up.”

He raises his eyebrows coaxingly. “Because…?”

Lucifer really is captivating, especially from just a table’s distance away. But his physical appeal isn’t the reason she talked to him; the very thought of it reeks of falsehood, and she must not lie, not to him, not now. No, it’s…

“Because you were in pain, and I wanted to help.”

He rears back in mild surprise. The spell is broken. Beth blinks as if waking up from a trance, which it might well have been.

“I see,” he says, mostly to himself. Lucifer briefly taps his fingers on the table, his ring flashing briefly, then leans forward again. “Wait, are you sure? It’s not because of my Devilish irresistibility?”

Beth chokes on her last spoonful of pudding. So he _knows._ And he treats it as an indisputable fact, with a certainty that’s almost endearing. The Earth orbits the sun, and Lucifer Morningstar is irresistible.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says, unable to bite back her grin. “I mean, sure… you’ve got your… whatever… but I don’t really see you that way.”

She lowers her eyes, and her smile fades upon the memory. “I just remember how you looked when you came in here. With Mrs. Decker.”

Lucifer fiddles with his plastic spoon, any semblance of budding good cheer extinguished. They sit together for an uncomfortably long silence.

Just when Beth opens her mouth to break the awkwardness, Lucifer finally speaks again.

“She’s outlived all of our friends, you know.” His voice is raw and a little hitched. “Even her own daughter.” He smiles with no humor. “I think she was determined to stay with me for as long as possible, despite the ultimate futility of it.”

Probably not family, then. Lovers?

“But I suppose not even the Detective can win against time itself. I’ve had sixty-five years to make peace with that.”

Detective? _Sixty-five years?_

Beth fumbles for what to say as her flummoxed mind whirls. “I’m… very sorry. It can’t be easy.”

“Oh, I apologize,” Lucifer says, oddly contrite all of a sudden. “I’m bombarding you with truths you aren’t remotely equipped to process. It’s a relentless habit of mine, despite the Detective’s repeated protests.”

He forces a gleaming smile. “But I’ve forgotten my manners. I don’t know a thing about the charming young woman who introduced me to this exquisite pudding! Tell me about yourself, Ms. Carter.”

Their following conversation sails much saner waters. Beth tells Lucifer about her humble beginnings in a one-bedroom apartment with a single mom, her dogged pursuit of a nursing degree while working two jobs, her relentlessly sweet dachshund, Mallory.

Lucifer is a wonderful listener and conversationalist, engaging and witty. But as flawlessly as he navigates the intricacies of social interaction with well-practiced flair, Beth can’t help but feel that the earlier version of him--quiet, raw, vulnerable--had been the more authentic one. If she’d reacted better to his seemingly inexplicable ramblings, would he have felt the need to put on this shiny veneer to appease her?

That’s admittedly a pretty egotistical interpretation of his behavior. Perhaps he simply needs a distraction, a change of pace from his constant vigilance at Mrs. Decker’s bedside. Some light, friendly, inconsequential time spent with an acquaintance. A brief oasis of normalcy.

Beth will likely never know which one it is. She suspects that ambiguity is an intrinsic reality of Lucifer’s existence. Has anyone ever truly pinned him down?

Maybe Chloe Decker has.

*

Though he still spends the bulk of his time with Mrs. Decker, Lucifer now appears to seek a little distraction alongside his harrowing vigil. He ingratiates himself among the staff with almost alarming ease; the nurses, especially, harbor a blatant soft spot for his eccentric, impeccably mannered, well-dressed charm.

Lucifer’s presence is an unexpected boon in other ways. One time, Angela complains offhandedly about her sore feet and inadequate shoes. The next day, over a hundred pairs of top-of-the-line footwear are delivered to their front door, with multiples of each size for all of them. Tina, who offhandedly vents to Lucifer about her addict stalker ex-boyfriend, finds out about the latter’s substance abuse arrest less than a week later. Superior vendors selling at rock-bottom prices suddenly crop up out of nowhere, and the cafeteria’s food--rice pudding aside--improves tenfold.

These happenings only make Lucifer Morningstar an even riper target for gossip and speculation than he was before, if that were even possible.

“I Googled him yesterday,” Angela admits during break one night. “And guess what I found?”

Beth raises her eyebrows.

“Nothing but stuff about the Devil, of course! It’s pretty clever when you think about it. Any dirt on you gets completely buried, especially if no one knows where you’re from.”

“One thing’s for sure: his connections go deep,” Claire said. “All that stuff he’s managed to swing? He’s probably such a big deal that he’s invisible to us topside guys.”

Angela leans in with a conspiratorial whisper. “So what do you figure’s the situation with him and the old lady? They can’t be… you know… _together_ , right?”

“Down, girl,” Claire laughs. “Whatever they are, it’s none of your business.”

Angela sighs in an exaggerated imitation of a pining schoolgirl. “Still, what a _waste_.”

Beth rolls her eyes and finishes up her pasta.

*

Somehow, Beth knows that something has changed as soon as she steps into the building. There’s a strange pall in the air, an aura of hushed, silent misery far more potent than what she’s used to.

Lucifer is seated at the plastic bench outside Chloe’s room, his head in his hands. Beth sits beside him and places an inadequate hand on his trembling shoulder. It’s all she can do.

*

He lingers along the hospital corridors like a lost phantom. None of the staff has the heart to get him to leave. His hollow, aimless gaze haunts Beth’s dreams.

*

A week later, Beth arrives for her shift and doesn't see Lucifer among the staff and families. No one else has seen him for at least an hour.

She goes to search for him, fear of the worst churning in her stomach. Mrs. Decker's former room is deserted, as are the corridors. Her steps quicken in urgency.

Beth finally finds him in the hospital's chapel, a space barely larger than a sitting room furnished with miniature pews. He's standing before the simple altar, hands clasped as if in prayer. She hadn't assumed him to be the religious sort, especially considering the name he chose.

She sighs in relief, then moves to retreat and give him some privacy. But he turns around.

"Good evening, Nurse Carter."

Lucifer's expression is nothing like she expects. He looks… happy. Practically glowing with exhilaration, in fact.

"You… seem to be doing better," Beth says hesitantly.

He smiles, and casts a rapturous glance of wonder toward the heavens. "The gates are open. I can go back home." His eyes swim with a film of tears. "I didn't even… have to ask."

Before Beth can respond, he approaches her in three long strides and takes her hands. His dark eyes practically shimmer with joyful anticipation. He's reverted back to the vital force of nature he was born to be.

"Thank you for everything you've done, Nurse Carter, but this is goodbye. She's waiting for me."

And then something happens, something that she will never have the capacity to explain. There's a powerful surge of wind, a deep, layered rustle of what sounds like enormous wings, and Lucifer Morningstar is gone. All that remains is a long, pure white feather that floats down onto her now-empty palms.

Endless bewildered questions--and possibly a rethinking of her entire view of the cosmos--would eventually follow. But in this moment, Beth only feels a deep, tranquil contentment.

Because all is now right with the world. 


End file.
